horror

If it wasn’t clear by now, I’m a pick-your-moments kind of guy. If I made a 10 Commandments of Storytelling, Thou Shall Pace Thyself would be very near the top. It’s a commandment that Robert Eggers’s “The Witch” breaks, though there’s certainly escalation. The final 15 minutes or so are a wild and grisly ride. And yet…I couldn’t help but feel tired and rundown by the film.

In 1630s New England, William (Ralph Ineson) and his family are banished from a Puritan Christian community. They take up residence on the edge of some very spooky woods. Will characters in horror movies never learn!?

While the farmer’s eldest daughter, Thomasin (Anya Taylor-Joy), is watching his infant son, the boy goes missing. We see that he was taken by a witch and mashed into jelly. (I wish I were joking — that’s an image that won’t leave my head anytime soon.) After the boy’s disappearance, the fabric of the family comes undone.

There are some interesting storytelling choices here. The film boats some tricky language for any actor, especially young ones. But the cast handles it very well. Fans of “Game of Thrones” will recognize Kate Dickie as William’s wife, Katherine. Like on the HBO show, she plays another religious zealot. In addition to Taylor-Joy’s Thomasin, there are three other children: Caleb (Harvey Scrimshaw) and a pair of rambunctious — that’s a polite word — twins played by Ellie Grainger and Lucas Dawson.

For the majority of the film, it feels like everyone is shouting and hissing through bared teeth. Not without reason, but it all gets a little monotonous. The film drains its emotional stores long before it’s over.

Alfred Hitchcock defined suspense as the audience having information that characters do not. His example involved a bomb under a table. We the audience know it’s there, but the characters having a conversation at that table do not. I’ll come back to Hitch in a moment. As Devin Faraci pointed out, a lot of witch stories are structured as mysteries. Is there or isn’t there? I’m thinking of “Rosemary’s Baby,” one of my personal favorites. But here, Eggers shows us that there is in fact a bomb in the woods. And all the family’s squabbling about God’s will and what it all means is distressing in the best sense, because they’ve got much bigger problems.

“The Witch” is not constructed like most horror movies. Few and far between are the jumps scares, and they usually involve something pretty ordinary — an ax going through a block of wood. (So much wood chopping!) Still, the atmosphere is thick and Eggers rings unease out of the ordinary like a goat shifting its gaze. The goat, by the way, is Black Phillip, and he’s the best.

One of my favorite sequences involves young Caleb in the woods. He comes across a cabin…and its occupant. There’s a great use of subjective camera — we slowly track into this mysterious woman as she stares right into the camera’s lens. I literally shuffled back into my seat.

And then we come to that bloody climax. What follows is a series of decisions that read like someone bolding, italicizing, underlining and then circling a phrase to make sure that we really, really get the point. Additionally, the film travels in stock witch imagery which is never more true than the final moments. It descends into camp for a film that has otherwise had a deficit of it. (A deficit in camp…can a film have that?)

None of this makes “The Witch” a bad film or even mediocre. It’s just not a great one.

Quint ribs Hooper about his city hands, and the Chief can’t stomach Quint’s homemade booze. The scene sets up a lot of the conflict to come. These characters and their dynamic are a real strength of the film. I could watch these guys on a road trip.

22.) “Farewell and adieu…”

Before setting out, Quint sings “Spanish Ladies.” (It’s catchy as hell!) I’ve always loved the smile Hooper gives him. I like to think it’s a rare moment of camaraderie between them, Hooper perhaps recognizing a song he’s heard on the ocean. But you could also read it as “Just nod and smile at the crazy loon.”

23.) Genre hop

An interesting things about “Jaws” is that it changes genres halfway through. It starts as a horror film — an unseen force preying on a white picket fence community — and then it becomes an adventure when our three heroes embark on a hunt for a killer shark.

24.) Drinking contest

One of the things that makes “Jaws” so special is its sense of humor. It leverages the suspense and excitement, and it comes naturally from its characters. Consider Quint and Hooper having a drink. Quint drains his beer can and crushes it, Hooper does just the same…except his is a Styrofoam cup.

25.) Air tank exposition

Hooper chews Brody out for sending air tanks across the Orca’s deck. It’s a great bit of exposition, because it accomplishes three things at once. (1) It ups the stakes and the possibility for disaster. (2) It reinforces that Brody is not at home on the water and isolates him from the other characters. (3) It sets up the shark’s final scene and the climax of the film.

26.) Whose [fishing] line is it anyway?

An attempt to capture the shark involves piano wire and a fishing rod. Brody and Hooper are busy, so only Quint notices that something seems to be nibbling on the end of his line. The sound work is fantastic, allowing tension to build. Click, click, click. The line twitches in the water. Creak. And Quint fastens himself to his chair.

27.) The shark is ready for its close-up

Martin: “I can go slow ahead. Come on down and chum some of this shit!”

And boom, more than an hour into the film, the Great White finally gets his close-up. Timed perfectly, I love the way Spielberg turns a laugh into a scream.

28.) Shark’s limited screen time

I adore the judicious use of the shark, a strategy that would surely fall flat today. (Remember all that bellyaching about Godzilla’s screen time in last year’s reboot?) Still, few things take the majesty and menace out of a monster like overexposure.

29.) “You’re gonna need a bigger boat.”

C’mon, what else do I need to say! The perfect encapsulation of an insurmountable problem.

30.) Pirate music

John Williams’s work highlights that transition from horror to sea-faring adventure. Nowhere is that more prevalent than the first chase. Listen to the track here. Still gets my heart racing.

31.) Fish stories

Quint and Hooper, a little tipsy, compare scars in a game of one-upsmanship. I got this from a bull shark. Well, I got this from a thresher. The Chief lifts his shirt, takes a look at his appendectomy scar, then quickly dismisses it. The scene’s a welcome reprieve after the first thrilling chase and before…

32.) “You were on the Indianapolis?”

I love the way Hooper’s laugh deflates when he learns that Quint was on the USS Indianapolis. It’s a great bit of acting by Dreyfuss. If you’re not familiar with the story — I certainly wasn’t as a kid — it lets you know that you’re in for something. Also note how Brody isn’t aware of the event. Yet again, he’s the outsider.

33.) The Indianapolis monologue

Robert Shaw delivers the movie monologue to end all movie monologues. The language is so evocative: “You know the thing about a shark, he’s got black eyes. Lifeless eyes, like a doll’s eyes. When he comes at ya, he doesn’t seem to be livin’…until he bites ya.” Whether a conscious choice or not — Shaw was a drinker on set — I love Quint’s drunken portrayal. As though his boat-mates wouldn’t be hearing this story if he were sober. It also serves as a basis for some of Quint’s more questionable decisions.

34.) The sound of silence

After conditioning the audience to expect the shark’s theme before an attack, Spielberg and Williams pull a great switcheroo. When the barrels attached to the fish surface, the audience knows the threat is there. Its attack comes out of silence.

35.) “He’s chasing us, I don’t believe it!”

I love the characterization – I’m using that word loosely — of the shark. He’s driven by more than just instinct, and, yes, there wouldn’t be much of a movie if he just moved on to another beach. He almost mocks our heroes before bringing his full strength to bear. The way he passes by Hooper in the cage before striking (more on that in a bit). And the way the tables turn and he starts chasing the Orca. The shark’s final scene is spectacular, but it’s earned. You feel as though that’s what it’d take, nothing less, to kill this unstoppable force.

36.) Life jackets

Quint tells Brody and Hooper that he’ll never put on a life jacket again. So when he hands each of them one, the boat hanging low in the water, it speaks volumes about their predicament. This is as close as Quint gets to apologizing. And I love the visual of him finding the life jackets: hanging from the ceiling, dripping with water.

37.) Cage match

With Hooper in the cage, we finally get our first full-body look at the Great White. It appears out of the din, Williams’s theme chugging along in the background. It glides by the cage, not even fitting inside the 2.35 framing. As it disappears into the murk again, the theme fades. So haunting!

38.) “The ocean turns red…”

A shark attack in all its grisly horror, Quint comes face-to-face with the thing he fears most. Shaw’s committed performance sells it and makes for one of the best movie deaths of all time. Oh man, and the foley work — the snap-crack when the shark bites into Quint’s leg. Ouch.

39.) The end

Martin: “I used to hate the water.”

Hooper: “I can’t imagine why.”

40.) Source of inspiration

Okay, not really a moment from “Jaws,” but I owe my love of movies to this film. I’ve told the story before, but when I was seven years old, I wanted to be a marine biologist. So my mother showed me “Jaws,” and I wanted to be a filmmaker. When you hear about all the production’s trials and tribulations — ballooning budgets and schedules, a malfunctioning shark, weather, location politics — it’s a marvel it got made at all and a testament to art coming from adversity. That the film turned out as well as it did, well, that’s just icing on the cake. Or chum in the water. I liked “Jaws” as a kid, but it took getting older to appreciate how good it is.

Thanks for reading! Do you have a favorite moment from “Jaws?” Comment below.

Today marks the 40th anniversary of “Jaws.” Directed by Steven Spielberg, written by Carl Gottlieb and Peter Benchley, and starring Roy Scheider, Robert Shaw, Richard Dreyfuss. The film changed the course of Hollywood…and it changed the course of my life. Note the name of the blog. In honor of its big anniversary, part one of my 40 favorite moments from “Jaws.”

1.) Duuh dunnn…duuuuh duun…

“All this machine does is swim and eat and make little sharks.” What better way to characterize something so simple than with two notes? Once John Williams’s theme gets going, it does indeed sound like an engine. A big, unstoppable engine…with teeth.

2.) Peeping shark

Suspense builds as we watch an unsuspecting menu item, her feet dangling beneath the surface.

3.) The first bite is the deepest

The minimalist approach here was the way to go. There isn’t so much as a shadow or flick of a fin. Just violent jerking motions. Primal and visceral.

4.) Meeting Martin Brody

Martin: “How come the sun didn’t used to shine in here?”

Ellen: “We bought the house in the fall. This is summer.”

…

Ellen: “In Amity you say ‘yahd’.”

Martin: “[The kids] are in the yahd, not too fahr from the cahr. How’s that?”

Ellen: “Like you’re from New York.”

In a few quick lines, we learn so much about the Brody family and Martin in particular.

5.) The ferry long take

The mayor corners the chief for a meeting about tourist season. There’s minimal camera movement, but since we’re on a ferry, the background is spinning and Spielberg keeps the actors moving such that we don’t notice the long take. It’s a dynamic way to deliver exposition.

6.) Brody’s POV

Spielberg places us in the shoes of the paranoid chief as he watches bathers from his chair. Beach-goers walk in front of the camera — they wipe off Brody and wipe on what he’s looking at. Someone will be talking to the chief, their face wedged into the corner of the frame and an expanse of ocean over their shoulder, letting us know what’s really on our his mind.

7.) Let’s [not] paint the town red!

Red is used so sparingly in the film that when it does appear, it pops off the screen.

8.) There’s chaos in the air

“We have to talk to Mrs. Kintner, because this is going to turn into a contest.”

“I have a motel! How do you feel about this?”

“Go out there tomorrow and see that no one gets hurt!”

Overlapping dialog during the town meeting accomplishes so much more than a traditional, staged approach. It adds texture and makes Amity feel lived in.

9.) There ARE strings on me.

Brody, on the left side of the frame, talks about keeping the beaches safe. He has no lead room — no vision or conviction. Behind him, the mayor and his cronies watch their puppet dance. A whole story in one shot.

10.) Quint’s intro

Nails on a chalkboard rake across a shark that’s devouring a swimmer. And so we meet the film’s most indelible character. Quint’s entrance encompasses all the bluster that he’ll come to embody. And yet his line, “There’s too many captains on this island,” cuts right to the heart of the problem. Bureaucracy and commercial interests have indeed run amok on the island.

11.) Brody’s studies

Brody glances through a series of photographs depicting real-life shark attacks. Reflected in his glasses, the horror on the book pages consume his vision.

12.) Fickle fin

Martin: “I don’t want him on the ocean!”

Ellen: “He’s not on the ocean, he’s in a boat!”

Ellen: “Michael! Did you hear your father? Out of the water now. Now!”

13.) Attack of the Pier!

After a bounty is placed on the shark, two fishermen attempt to catch it. When the fish takes the bait chained to a pier, half the pier goes with it and one of the men gets dragged out to sea. In one of my favorite gags, the pier turns around and follows him. Shark-by-proxy, far spookier than actually seeing the creature.

14.) Brody and his son

Few and far between are the blockbusters that would make room for a scene like this. Having been blamed for the death of Alex Kintner, the chief finds himself goofing off with his son. The young boy mimics his father, and Martin plays along. It aligns us firmly with our hero.

15.) Ellen & Hooper

Ellen laughs just a little too hard and a little too long at some of Hooper’s jokes. It’s a nice bit of characterization and a nice nod to Peter Benchley’s novel, which contained a subplot about an affair between the two.

16.) “Drowning”

Ellen: “Martin sits in his car when we go on the ferry to the main land. I guess it’s a childhood thing. There’s a clinical name for it, isn’t there?”

Martin: “Drowning.”

You’ve got to love Schieder’s off-handed delivery. In a lesser film, Martin Brody would have been too broadly comic or just a wet blanket. But Spielberg and Scheider strike the right balance.

17.) Boo!

While we ponder Hooper’s discovery of a tooth the size of a shot glass — Bam! — a pale and bloated corpse floats out to greet him. Like a magician, Spielberg draws our gaze away before the trick.

18.) Water-level camera

One of the visual strategies Spielberg employs is a water-level camera. This usually involves water lapping over the lens and swimmers in the background. It amps up the tension as it feels like we, the audience, are treading shark-infested water.

19.) “Michael’s in the pond!”

After a false alarm on July 4th, a woman spots the shark. “There’s a shark in the pond!” The camera tracks with Brody in profile as he makes his way through a crowd, faster and faster until the beach goers are blurs around him. It’s a great means of visualizing the chief’s rising panic as his son happens to be playing in the pond.

20.) Mayor of Shark City

“I was acting in the town’s best interest.” Murray Hamilton says this to himself as much as Brody, as though he was already practicing for the media gauntlet. By the end of the scene, he’s just a broken man: “Martin, my kids were on that beach too.” It’s a glimmer of humanity in a character that’s otherwise pretty sleazy.

Tune in tomorrow for the second and final installment in “My 40 Favorite Moments from ‘Jaws’.” Also tomorrow, Fathom Events will also be screening the film throughout the country. If you’ve never seen “Jaws” on a big screen with a large audience, it’s a real treat! Click here for location and ticket details.

If you’re like me, you’re a little nervous about projects that involve Dr. Hannibal “the Cannibal” Lecter. Don’t get me wrong, “The Silence of the Lambs” was an integral part of my development as a film nerd, but “Hannibal” and “Red Dragon?” Not so much. I didn’t even bother with “Hannibal Rising.” Between the sequel and two prequels, it seemed the boogeyman of my teenage years had been whittled down to a punch line.

Well, until now.

Bryan Fuller’s “Hannibal,” which is based on the book by Thomas Harris and has its third season premiering tonight on NBC, brings the character back to his menacing roots. A far cry from the grubby realism of Jonatham Demme’s “Lambs,” the show adopts a surrealist approach. This is evident from the very first scene of the first episode, where Will Graham (Hugh Dancy) investigates a murder. Gifted — or cursed — with hyper empathy, Will’s able to see into the scene of a crime. He assesses what was done and how. We watch as a pool of blood retracts into the victim and breath re-enters her body, only to see her killed again, Will standing in as the murderer.

This approach is pretty unique, particularly for network television, and it feels wholly appropriate for a franchise in which one character convinced another to swallow his own tongue. Will’s visions fuel some of the show’s creepier images. His relationship with Hannibal is visualized as a black stag — a motif that’s poignantly used in the final moments of Season 2. Will sees Hannibal himself as a Wendigo, a half-man-half-stag. One of the show’s more chilling (and darkly comic) moments comes when Will envisions the Wendigo taking the stand in a courtroom.

But let’s get to the main event: Mads Mikkelsen as Dr. Lecter. I’d only seen Mikkelsen as one of the baddies in “Casino Royale,” but he’s a revelation! His Hannibal is harder to read than Hopkins’s, playing his cards close to his chest while secretly making his puppets dance a sick charade. Like many great monsters, he’s got a hell of an introduction. At its worst — which is still better than most — “Hannibal” is a standard procedural complete with wise-cracking investigators, but the titular character’s reveal halfway through the first episode was the moment I went all in.

One of the series’s real strengths is the pairing of Hannibal and Will. Dr. Lecter has a deep fascination with this man who’s become his patient, and Will’s hyper empathy allows him to appreciate Hannibal’s eccentricities. There’s almost a romantic edge to their relationship, and I love how it takes on tragic dimensions by the end of the second season.

The main thing I could see driving viewers away is the gore. While there are passages that make “Silence of the Lambs” look like Disney, I’m not sure the squeamish would come to the show in the first place. And the carnage is displayed…dare I say it…beautifully. Most striking might be a human totem pole discovered on a beach in season one.

Also, the food cinematography, disturbing as that sounds, is sensational.

“Hannibal” struggles with ratings — maybe because of its violent content or surrealist approach — but I sincerely hope you’ll check it out. At the risk of fanboying, I’m so glad this show exists. Not only is its non-traditional approach a breath of fresh air, but its revitalization of a pummeled pop culture icon is really exciting.

Like it or not, the success of “Twilight” brought a resurgence of all things vampire. From the multiplex (“Dracula Untold”) to the art house (“Let the Right One In”) to television (“True Blood”)…they saturate our culture. Talk about the undead! It would be easy to say Die already, vamps! were it not for signs of life like Ana Lily Amirpour’s “A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night.”

A young man, Arash (Arash Marandi) and his heroin-addicted father are preyed upon by a local drug dealer. That is, until the drug dealer has a run in with the titular vampire (Sheila Vand). The Girl — that’s how she’s referred to in the credits — has her sights set on more than just the neighborhood underworld. In one of the movie’s most chilling scenes (and a great twist on standard gender roles), she menaces a mischievous young boy. “Have you been good?” she snarls in his ear. After the boy flees, she commandeers his skateboard and rolls down the center of a desolate street, her lonely eyes gazing up at the lights.

Produced in Southern California but set in a fictional Iranian ghost town called Bad City, “A Girl Walks Home Alone” has a number of interesting dichotomies. Indeed, none more than Vand in the main role. She’s a real marvel in the way she balances sad and sinister. We meet her, listless, sitting alone in her apartment, listening to music. We don’t yet know she’s a vampire, but her small frame belies a real ferocity. When she’s on, she’s unblinking and invasive. She leans forward and imposes herself on the other actors like a cobra lording over its prey. When the Girl meets Arash at a party, he’s dressed as Dracula. Not knowing how she’d react had me on edge. The character is great for creating that kind of tension.

The film isn’t heavy on plot or narrative. The more languid passages, characters searching for connection in a lonely town, recall the work of Jim Jarmusch. (Just last year, Jarmusch took a stab at the vampire genre with “Only Lovers Left Alive.” It was set in another ghost town known as Detroit.) Like that indie filmmaker’s early work, ”A Girl…” was shot in gloomy black and white. Amidst a dilapidated landscape, Director of Photography Lyle Vincent’s 2.35:1 compositions serve to isolate the characters. The film feels like a Western with its barren and wind-swept streets, making the need for human connection that much greater.

“It Follows” opens wide this weekend, and what follows is my review. No real spoilers, especially if you’ve seen the trailer, but if you wannaremain completely in the dark — so creepy! — see the film first.

I’m a little reluctant to compare new films to seminal pieces of work. “‘Guardians of the Galaxy’ is the new ‘Star Wars!’” Who wants that kinda baggage? These things need time. Well how about this: “It Follows” ain’t “Jaws” or “Psycho,” but it might just do for strangers what those films did for beaches and hotels. You may find yourself keeping a safe distance from everyone as you leave the theater.

The second feature from writer-director David Robert Mitchell, “It Follows” is about Jay (Maika Monroe), a young woman who finds herself pursued by an evil specter. After having sex with Hugh (Jake Weary), he takes her to an abandoned building and ties her to a wheelchair. In one of the film’s more harrowing passages, Hugh explains that he’s passed this entity on to her. She’ll start to see someone following her, and this thing is only visible to those who’ve been afflicted. It can look like anyone — a complete stranger or even a friend. (Strangely, the film doesn’t mine the latter as much as it could.) It moves at a walking pace, but if it catches her, it will kill her. Jay’s best bet is to pass the curse on to someone else.

Mitchell wears his influences on his sleeve, and there’s a lot to appreciate for horror aficionados. The basic premise, a quiet neighborhood under threat, brings to mind…well, any number of slashers from the 70s and 80s. Disasterpeace’s nerve-jangling synth score recalls John Carpenter. Like so many horror films from generations past, this one could be read as a cautionary tale about adolescent sex. (“Cautionary” is a strong word — I don’t think it’s the first or even twenty-first concern for Mitchell. But it’s certainly a clever nod.) Even the persistence of the threat reminded me of Jason Voorhees and Michael Myers, slowly stalking their prey and eventually catching up with them despite their best — okay, sometimes not-so-best — efforts.

Above all, Mitchell brings an understanding of how to use the frame. What’s in it and what’s out — that’s really a bedrock of cinema and especially horror. An oft-cited shot from this film is one where the camera turns 720 degrees. Jay and a friend are at Hugh’s former high school trying to track him down. The camera remains outside the office as they consult a secretary. It turns to reveal a series of windows looking onto the lawn. Students walk back and forth, but one off in the distance seems to be headed straight for us. Then the camera passes over an empty hallway and back to the office — they’re still talking to the secretary — and then we’re looking out the windows again.

That student is closer.

When we get back to the office, the bell rings. We hear doors open, and I started to worry that it would sneak up on Jay in the crowd. The threat in this film could come from anywhere. It’s one that the director puzzlingly undercuts a few times by depicting the entity with cheap ghoulish makeup. More often than not, creepy makeup isn’t creepy. And I’m sure going to avoid someone who looks half-dead. But a student in a crowd of students? Anyone would be a goner.

So much of what’s done with the camera involves smooth and elegant movement, but one of my favorite flourishes involves Mitchell and cinematographer Mike Gioulakis strapping it to the wheelchair that Jay is tied to such that the lens is pointing back at the actress. She struggles against her restraints, and the whole frame rattles. It’s used to great effect when she and Hugh are being pursued by the specter in an abandoned building. As he hurriedly pushes her toward the exit, the camera bounces around her terror stricken face and the dark figure in the background. It’s as though the whole frame might collapse.

Maika Monroe is really strong in the main role. There’s a wistful quality to her performance, particularly during the first act. Once the shit hits the fan, she plays horror with the best of them. You’re really in her corner, which is why it’s disappointing when the film takes a turn in the second half. By then, many of the characters have come down with stupid decision-itis, which is a disease prevalent in the horror genre wherein people on screen lose the ability to make rational decisions. Their actions don’t come from a place of logic, they come from a need to set up more scares. And this is never more prevalent than in the film’s climax. I’m going to try and remain spoiler-free, but I really don’t know what the characters intended or what they thought would happen in that scene.

Even if David Robert Mitchell leaves some scares on the table, “It Follows” is an enviable horror film. Enviable in the way that it constructs, for the most part, empathetic characters. Enviable in the way it eschews gore and cheap tricks to make us shiver. And, most of all, enviable in the way that it uses the camera to instill fear.

Matt Zoller Seitz recently published an excellent article about watching “Aliens” with his 11-year old son and a handful of his fifth grade friends. He wrote, “I realized…that while unfortunately you can’t see a great movie again for the first time, the next best thing is to show it to people who’ve never seen it.” Which is a sentiment I’ve always found to be true. Watch a comedy you enjoy with someone who’s never seen it, and you’ll find yourself laughing harder. Watch one of your favorite horror films with someone who’s never seen it, and you you’ll find your palms sweating. In honor of Seitz’s writeup, I thought I’d share my experience showing “Jaws” to my college roommate.

Indeed, my freshman year roommate — and we would remain roomies throughout college — had never seen “Jaws.” I felt determined and obligated to remedy this as quickly as possible. He was a good sport, but he went into the experience with notions of what he thought the film would be. Though he didn’t say anything beforehand, I could read it on him. “Oh yeah, ‘Jaws?’ I’ve heard about the robotic shark.” Or “I’ve seen other movies from this period, and I didn’t like them very much.” Or “Horror movies have changed so much since the 70s. Scary? Yeah, we’ll see.”

One early autumn evening, we had three or four friends over to watch the film. The viewing circumstances were less than ideal. We were all stuffed into a small dorm room. It was stinkin’ hot in upstate New York, and our door was open for circulation. I still remember intoxicated voices bouncing around the hall outside as students were enjoying their weekend. The television set was in the neighborhood of 15 inches, and it was wedged between the ceiling and the top of some large cabinets. (They’re called “closets” in some circles.)

There was idle chit-chat among our friends over the opening credits. I grimaced, not wanting to be a killjoy but also trying to maintain some semblance of a proper presentation. With that first tug on poor Chrissie Watkins’s leg, things started to quiet down. As she was ripped through the water by an unseen menace, the chatter completely turned to silence.

Cut to 15 minutes later, Chief Brody sits on the beach with his family. He anxiously watches bathers enter and exit the water, believing a shark was responsible for the young woman’s death. A couple townsfolk strike up a conversation with him, but his eyes are fixed on the expanse of ocean. The Chief explodes out of his chair at the sound of a young woman’s screams, only to discover that her boyfriend has surfaced beneath her. He leans forward as a shape approaches a woman floating on her back. It’s just a swimmer. Little Alex Kitner enters the water and paddles out on his raft. I watched with anticipation as John Williams’s menacing score started to thump and Spielberg’s roving camera — the shark’s POV — approached the boy from below. The raft is overturned, and there’s a geyser of blood as Alex is taken under.

My roommate screamed: “Oh God! OH MY GOD!”

Movie viewings are rarely this gratifying.

As the full gravity of the community’s situation sets in, marine biologist Matt Hooper investigates a boat that was struck by the shark. A moody night-time scene: lights from Hooper’s vessel filter through the inky water. Eerie music indicates that danger could strike at any moment. And then, my phone went off. I can’t for the life of me remember why I didn’t have it on vibrate. As it rang out, one of our friends piped up, “Well, that ruined the mood!” Without bringing the phone to my ear, I spoke into the receiver: “Hold on.” As Hooper approaches a hole in the hull of the boat, the craft’s former owner, dead, floats into frame to greet him. Screams erupted all around me as I walked to the hallway to take the call.

Afterward, my roommate would admit that he thought the film would be a victim of its times. The next day, he posted a picture of the “Jaws” DVD online and simply stated: Best. Movie. Ever.

Do you have a memory of sharing a favorite film with a friend? Comment below!